Page 26 of The Charmer

“Flash car,” she said, sliding into the plush, leather interior as he held the passenger door open for her.

“It was a gift.”

She looked at him in surprise, his abrupt tone implying he didn’t like it. Or maybe didn’t like the person who had given it to him?

As he slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb, she couldn’t resist probing further. “Let me guess. Daddy bought it for you as a bonus last year?”

“Close,” he said, his voice tight, his hands clenched on the steering wheel.

She could’ve left it there but she didn’t. After being ignored for the first eight years of her life as she flitted from orphanage to foster home and back again, living with Barb had opened a whole new world to her. Barb had encouraged her natural curiosity, had answered her endless questions with the patience of a saint.

Ariel loved mystery novels for that very reason, always wanting questions answered, the unsolvable unravelled, and right now, she had a doozy of a puzzle laid out before her and there was no way she could back down.

“Pretty generous gift. You two must be close to whoever gave it to you.”

“We were.”

Cooper’s use of past tense could only mean two things; they’d fallen out or worse, the other person was dead. Maybe she should quell her curiosity and keep her mouth shut.

“My father gave me the car. We don’t get along these days,” Cooper said, his icy tone sending chills down her spine.

“I’m sorry.”

Her apology extended beyond her probing. How could she contemplate for one second that she could make tonight work? Even when she was trying to fit in, she made a mess of things. Rather than keeping the conversation light, she’d pushed for answers, nosing around where she didn’t belong.

“So am I.” Cooper didn’t say anymore and this time, she didn’t push, clamping her glossed lips tightly shut and staring out the window at the glittering lights of Melbourne as they wound their way to Toorak, one of the city’s richest suburbs.

However, after five minutes passed and the uncomfortable silence yawned between them, she said, “Do you have any music?”

“Sure.” He touched a fancy keypad that looked like it could launch the space shuttle until muted jazz filled the car. “How’s that?”

“Not bad,” she said, hoping for something more upbeat. Anything to lighten the mood.

“What sort of music do you like?”

“Latin American. Flamenco. Anything with a bit of oomph.”

The exact opposite of his boring choice, but she wisely kept that to herself.

However, he zoned in on her thoughts with unerring accuracy once again. “You think I’m some kind of business-oriented bore, don’t you?”

Got it in one, Coop.

However, in the interests of making the rest of the drive and the hour or so of torture she had ahead of her at the party bearable, she chose her words carefully. “We’re different, that’s all.”

“Like opposites attracting?”

“Who said anything about attraction?”

She kept her tone deliberately light, knowing she’d successfully stepped through one verbal minefield only to plough straight into another. A more dangerous minefield this time, one with the potential to detonate and leave her heart in tiny, shattered fragments if she acknowledged her growing attraction for this guy.

“Come on, tell me the truth. I’ve seen how you look at me when you’re painting.”

“What a load of—”

His laughter drowned out the rest of her response and she reluctantly joined in, recognising she’d been duped and how he’d effectively lightened the mood.

“Okay, now that I can add enormous ego to the list of your faults, you better quit while you’re behind.”

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